


Connected

by hit_the_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Bottom Sam, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester First Time, First Kiss, Grace Bonds, Grace Kink, Grace Sharing, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Psychic Bond, Rimming, Season/Series 05, Sex Toys, Sibling Incest, Switching, Teasing, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Castiel, Top Sam, Wincestiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 13:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6856387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a particularly bad hunt, Castiel decides that the only way he can keep Team Free Will in one piece is if he shares some of his grace with Dean and Sam. At first everything seems fine, what with the ability to heal many wounds with no more than a quick thought, but during their next case Dean, Cas and Sam realize that Castiel's grace formed a psychic bond between the three of them.</p><p>And this bond between them goes deeper than just hearing each other’s thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Connected

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the [SPN Kink Big Bang](http://spnkinkbb.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thanks to carryonwaywardhomos for [their art to go with this fic](http://carryonwaywardhomos.tumblr.com/post/144331315539/for-the-supernatural-kink-big-bang-check-it-out).
> 
> And thank you to [Zeryx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeryx) and [A_Diamond](http://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Diamond) for beta reading my fic for me.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr master post.](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/post/144400861580/spnkinkbb-prompt-number-5-title-connected)
> 
>  
> 
> 2017 update: Thanks to [White_Wings](http://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Wings/pseuds/White_Wings) you can now read this [fanfic in Italian right here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9368273).

There’s blackness and then Sam opens his eyes, blinking. A familiar form shifts around by his right elbow and maybe they’re saying something, but Sam’s ears are ringing and his vision is blurry. He tries to move his right arm and only feels hot knives slicing through skin, muscle and bone. Nothing feels right. Trying to speak gets Sam nowhere—his throat feels like he swallowed a jar of needles.

Finally, his hearing begins to come back and Dean’s voice scratches across every ragged nerve ending that Sam still has at his disposal.

“Cas, c’mon man! Where the hell are you?!” Dean yells at no one— _or is he on his cell?_ —and Sam realizes he’s laid out down beside Baby, insides trying their best to be on the outside. He doesn’t remember how he came to be beside the car, on the side of a dirt road.

The distant thump-thump-thump of wings signals Castiel’s arrival, but Sam still can’t speak and his vision is beginning to fade.

Blackness starts to swallow Sam up again and then he feels the cool press of fingers on his forehead. Hot knives are replaced with melting wax and slowly Sam is rebuilt.

“What were you hunting?” Cas asks, matter of fact, like putting Sam back together is nothing.

“Uh, we thought it was a Black Dog, but whatever it was: it’s dead.”

“Thought…” And Sam can almost hear Cas shaking his head in disdain.

Opening his eyes again, Sam’s relieved to find that the pain is just a memory now as the light of twilight washes over him. Cas’s fingers remain on his forehead and the seraph is giving Sam a quizzical look.

“This is the fifth time in the past ten days that I have had to serve as your personal healer.” Castiel looks between Sam and Dean, his frustration clearly written on his face. “I cannot continue to heal the both of you in this way. It is… draining and inefficient.”

“Sorry. It’s just—” Dean crouches down beside Sam and Cas.

“This… recklessness will have a _cost_ eventually. This cannot go on.” Cas finally removes his fingers from Sam’s brow and Sam realizes he’d been holding his breath.

Slowly, Sam draws in air, sits up and regards Cas, ignoring just how little personal space he has right now. “What are you proposing?”

Castiel stands and brushes roadside dust off of his pants and then his hands. “Perhaps we should return to your motel room to discuss this further.”

And then the angel’s gone, expecting Dean and Sam to follow. Dean helps Sam up and grumbles about Cas leaving them with an hour long drive ahead of them.

“Yeah, but at least he didn’t zap you and make it impossible for you to crap for a week,” Sam points out as he takes shotgun at the front. _It’s great to be able to joke with him again_ , Sam thinks to himself, the memory of their separation—as he struggled after Lilith’s death—still too fresh.

Dean climbs into the driver’s seat. “Whatever. I just hope he doesn’t cut us off.” Doors closed, Dean starts the engine and begins to pull back onto the main part of the dirt road.

“Y’know, we used to do okay without all this angelic healing. Maybe we _are_ getting too reckless?” Sam gazes out his window at the darkening landscape.

“Or maybe the universe is trying to chew us up more than ever before. Ever think about that? What with Heaven and Hell gunning for both our asses.” Dean pulls onto an on-ramp and the car begins to finally roll over tarmac again.

Twisting in his seat to regard Dean, Sam swallows hard as he looks Dean over. He knows he could never handle losing Dean again, but it feels too much like taking advantage whenever Cas heals either of them. “I just think maybe we could be more careful, is all.”

“Fine, I’ll be more careful, once everyone stops trying to make us their bitches.”

***

Sam warily watches the gas station clerk eyes Dean as Dean examines the beer in the cooler, doors wide open, ass stuck out a little because he’s looking on the lower shelves. The clerk keeps twirling the end of her ponytail between her fingers in the most overt display of interest that Sam has had the misfortune of observing in recent memory. Her name badge proclaims her to be “Hayley”.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Sam snipes as he slams down a dozen bottles of bottled water, five packets of beef jerky and a couple of newspapers. There was a diner near the motel that they’d get some takeout from, but these supplies were for tomorrow and the drive to the next hunt.

Blush rising to her cheeks, Hayley the clerk rings up Sam’s items and lets him pay for the gas he pumped. Dean wanders over, bottles of El Sol already perspiring in his grip and throws down the cash for them onto the counter.

“Don’t worry about the change.” Dean grins and Sam rolls his eyes the second Hayley smiles back.

Almost dazed by Dean’s pearly whites at this point—or so it seems—Hayley just about remembers Sam’s change and hands it over.

Sam proceeds to lead Dean back out to the car. “We shouldn’t keep Cas waiting,” Sam grumbles, genuinely not wanting to further antagonize the heavenly being.

“Ah, dude’s thousands of years old. He won’t miss us for a few more minutes.” Dean’s right behind Sam as they reach the car and just for a second before they part, before Sam walks around to the front passenger seat, Dean’s in Sam’s space and the skin on Sam’s neck prickles.

 _Right. Of course_. “Yeah, well I’m beat,” Sam whips round to the front passenger seat and tries to calm the sudden beating of his heart as he puts the water, jerky and newspapers down on the seat beside him.

“Fine, we’ll head right back, Sleeping Beauty.”

Sam doesn’t risk a retort. He’s not sure what will come out of his mouth.

The two of them pile in and Dean starts the engine, Black Sabbath’s “Heaven and Hell” album starting up again on the stereo, tape part way through “Lady Evil”. Sam snatches another glance at Dean as his brother pulls them back out onto the highway, the lights from the gas station just catching in Dean’s hair one final time.

A crown of gold circles Dean’s head and then it’s gone as they drive off into the gathering darkness. Sam looks away and grits his teeth. It had all been so much easier before Dean had died that first time in Broward County.

Now?

Sam feels like he’s stuck between two different thirsts and two different desires: both leading to damnation.

***

Cas greets Dean and Sam with a glower the moment they enter their modest motel room. Dean ignores Cas as he heads over to the fridge and puts the beers inside. The bag filled with burgers and fries under Sam’s arm goes nowhere as the younger Winchester tries to ignore the predatory stare Cas is giving both of them. The way Cas stands at the far end of the room and tracks their every movement makes Sam feel uneasy.

“It should only have taken you an hour to return.” Cas takes a step forward.

Dean grabs two beers right back out of the fridge and shrugs. “We needed supplies.” Passing Sam a beer, Dean grabs the bag of food and starts placing their dinner on the room’s only table. “Man’s gotta eat.”

Clawing back his frustration, Castiel changes his composure, almost softening. “Yes, of course…”

“So,” Sam screws the top off his beer and grabs one of the burgers from the table, “what’s your proposal?”

“Mm—xactly,” says Dean through a mouthful of patty.

Stepping casually towards the table, Cas snags a fry and examines it closely between two of his fingers. “As the two of you seem almost incapable of making it through seven days without injury… I propose sharing, with each of you, a small portion of my grace. With this—”

“Wait a minute, you’re gonna share some of your power with us? What makes you an angel?” Sam asks in awe and surprise, a feeling of unworthiness creeping into his belly and curdling the fast food he’s eating.

“Yes. And with my grace you will be able to recover from many of your injuries without having to constantly rely upon my presence—”

“But I thought you said healing us is draining?” Dean asks, head tilted like Cas himself does so often.

“When it is an injury as serious as the one suffered by Sam today, then yes, it is draining. But with some of my grace becoming part of the two of you, it will be more like… lighting a candle from one that is already burning. Far easier than striking a match to light it.”

The analogy makes some sense, Sam can see it. “Would there be any, uh, side effects?”

“You should both be perfectly fine. What grace I provide will eventually be replenished.”

Dean looks doubtful. “I dunno, sounds a little… too much like possession. Being a vessel.”

Cas nods. “I know it may seem like that, but I assure you that you will both still be you and have full control of your bodies and thoughts. You will just heal much quicker when you receive a minor injury and recover more easily from more life threatening ones.”

“What'd you think, Sammy?”

Sam catches Dean’s eye. Today had been close. Who knew how dicey next time would be. “Sure, why not?”

“You’re sure?” Dean asks, looking at Sam like it’s his choice. _Like keeping me safe is the one thing he needs to do._

The desire to catch a break for once, to up their chances as pawns on the boards of fate—it’s strong for Sam. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Dean nods. “Okay, well, Cas, why didn’t you, y’know, offer this up before?”

The angel awkwardly shuffles his feet for a moment and then stares between the two brothers, stance stony and offish. “Because the number of injuries you are now receiving far out way any unpleasantness that the procedure of transferring grace entails.”

“Woah, “unpleasantness”?” Dean holds his hands up and backs away from Cas. “I thought you said there wouldn’t be any side effects.”

“There won’t be.” Cas takes a step closer, shoulders squared. “However, the process involves… kissing each of you and I am sure you would find it most unpleasant to kiss me.”

 _And oh fuck!_ Sam sees the heat rise on Dean’s cheeks and Sam can feel a blush creeping up on his own neck. Suddenly he feels uncomfortably warm, because the angel with the constantly messed up hair and dazzling blue eyes that Sam’s been hiding a crush on—whom he regards with a kind of reverence only reserved for a few people in his life… one of the only other beings he doesn’t mind having Dean’s attention—

 _He’s going to kiss me. Cas is going to kiss me. Does he know? Have any idea how I feel? He reads minds. Fuck, he must know…_ But as Sam’s mini panic continues around in circles and Dean’s cheeks remain the same shade of light crimson, Cas eyes the two of them with mild amusement. Or at least what passes for mild amusement whenever Cas tilts his head in that way he does, narrows his eyes and quirks his lips.

“Of course I understand if the—”

“No, no,” Dean audibly swallows, “I’m sure we can handle a kiss. Right, Sam?” Dean’s voice is a touch more strained than it usually is.

“Right,” Sam manages, voice also strained.

“Then if you are in agreement I shall proceed.” Stepping toward Dean, Cas stands in front of Sam’s brother and looks at him expectantly.

“Uhh, so we just kiss?” Dean asks, voice small, Cas in his personal space in a way that Sam knows Dean’s previously complained about.

“Yes.” Suddenly, Cas leans forward and places a hand on the back of Dean’s neck and pulls Dean in, open mouthed. Dean closes his eyes.

There’s no heat behind the press of lips, Cas keeping it as professional as possible, but Sam can’t stop the way his own breath is catching in his chest. It’s not over quickly and then Dean opens his eyes as a sudden blue glow shines between their mouths, a thin line contrasting with the press of flesh.

The glow fizzles away and Cas stands back from Dean. Sam can’t quite read Dean’s expression, but it’s not completely displeasure.

“Feel any—” But before Sam can finish asking his question, Cas is on Sam like he was with Dean. Sam instinctively closes his eyes and allows Cas to open his mouth. He can taste Dean on Cas, the onions from his burger clear with the bite of beer. Then there’s Cas beneath that, tasting like mountain springs, snow, lavender, fresh—

A warmth passes into Sam’s mouth and he opens his eyes as the hint of blue—the grace—begins to shine between him and Cas. Sam looks to Dean and finds his brother staring with a look that goes beyond mere concern, but Sam can’t quite place it.

It’s over before Sam expects it to be and Cas pulls away, steps unsteady.

“There. You should of course avoid injury whenever possible. But at least now you should have a fighting—” Cas sways on the spot and it’s Sam’s lightning fast hunter reflexes that stop Cas from crumpling to the floor.

“Shit, Cas!” Dean bawls and rushes over to the two of them. But Cas doesn’t respond much beyond moaning pitifully against Sam’s shoulder. Stepping up behind Cas, Dean helps Sam to manoeuvre the seraph into the bed nearest the door.

“I thought you said there wouldn’t be any side effects!” Dean half shouts as he stands over Cas and checks the angel over. Worried hands feeling here, grabbing there.

Sam stands back, keeping his panic in check but wanting to join Dean in making sure Cas is okay. It’s a struggle, but Sam remains at the foot of the bed.

Finally, Cas bats Dean away. “Imma, fine,” the seraph slurs, “leave me alone.”

“But—”

“Stop.” Cas buries face in the pillows beneath his head and waves dismissively at Dean.

It looks like it takes all of Dean’s restraint to step away from Cas and turn to Sam. “So, floor or—”

“It’s a king, we’ll cope!” Sam blurts out.

That gets him a roll of Dean’s eyes and, surprisingly, no disagreement. “Yeah, after we’ve drunk a few, sure.”

So as Cas recuperates on Dean’s bed, Dean and Sam drink all the beer Dean bought and an entire bottle of Johnnie Walker between them. They only achieve a mild buzz. The displeasure Dean feels at this is easy to sense when he finally climbs into bed beside Sam.

Curling up on his side, facing away from Sam, Dean grumbles into his pillow, “No side effects? No side effects, my ass.”

Dean’s asleep before Sam can reply.

***

A beam of sunlight filters through a gap in the curtains and shines right in Sam’s face. Stirring, Sam feels the weight in his arms and the warmth against his chest: Dean is pressed right up against him. Facing him.

Every single freckle on Dean’s face is like flecks of gold. A silent countdown begins as Sam ponders three things at once: _how did this happen? What the hell is Dean gonna do? Can I steal a kiss?_

As if hearing his last thought, Dean shifts slightly in Sam’s arms and _is he angling his mouth towards mine?_ Lips pursed, breaths short, Sam licks his own lips and lowers them slightly. He’s unsure why he’s suddenly taking this risk. Pushing to cross a threshold he’s not stepped over before. _Surely Dean knows whose arms he’s in?_

Bed springs shift as Cas rolls over on what was meant to be Dean’s bed. Dean makes a sleepy sound of protest against the noise.

“Is he always that… cuddly, when the two of you sleep in the same bed?” Cas asks bluntly, voice carrying across the gap between the two kings.

Sam doesn’t respond to Cas and watches Dean stir in his arms, pushing up against Sam. Pushing. Starting to grind. Breath catching, the world suddenly shifts around Sam and he finds himself sliding away from Dean as he falls out of the bed and lands on the grimy motel carpet.

“Ow!” Sam pathetically cries and looks up to see Dean looking down at him, confused.

“Whatcha doing down there?” Dean holds out a hand for Sam to lever himself up with.

“You pushed Sam out of the bed by—”

“Yeah,” Sam interrupts, “you pushed me out of the bed.” _Definitely no need for Dean to know he was grinding against me, lips ready. Nope no need._

“Huh, okay…? Sorry about that.” Dean pulls Sam up. “Man, I was having the strangest dream.”

 _Now that he mentions it…_ “You were?” Putting a hand through his hair, Sam tries to look disinterested, tries to shift so that his morning wood isn’t so obvious.

“Mmm, we were all,” Dean starts to blush, “uh… cuddledupinthebackofBaby,” Dean spits out. Rather than waiting for a reply, Dean scrambles out of his bed and strolls into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Not realizing his mouth is open, Sam closes it as Cas comes to stand in his space.

“Dean’s heart rate is raised right now. He seems to be in some kind of distress,” Cas states, eyes focused on the locked bathroom door.

Sam looks at the white door and remains silent. Dreams of leather seats and more than brotherly embraces nip at the heels of his conscious thought.

***

The house is musty. Floorboards just a couple of winters from starting to rot. Paint flaking and peeling from the walls. Sam’s alone in the former kitchen, for now. Alone with his thoughts. Self loathing. Doubt. Fears. Just everything churning away in his head as he tries hard not to think about all that’s happened since he let Lucifer out.

And then Sam remembers that Valentine’s is not far away and he doesn’t want to imagine Dean going out and finding someone else. Sam’s nostrils are half filled with the decay of the house and the sting of salty water. But none of it matters, because right now Sam is tied to a metal chair in this mouldering house, gagged, and unsure where his captor has gotten to.

To tell the truth, he’s not even sure who his captor is or what they are. Like Dean said: everyone is trying to make them their “bitches” these days. They’d been trying to get to the bottom of what was behind their latest case while checking out a warehouse and Sam had been jumped.

Several people had been jumped near the warehouse, burned and left sans heart. But then the usual signs of werewolf activity hadn’t been present. Now tied to this chair— _and fuck these are some tough knots_ —Sam’s thinking maybe old god, old god cultists or witch.

Anger lowly burns within Sam, but it doesn’t feel quite like the rage he’s usually pushing down these days, trying to fight against. No, it’s not all all like the anger that stays by his side, paired with his demon blood taint. _It feels almost righteous._

There’s a massive crack and a door splinters behind Sam. He instinctively closes this eyes against the spray of jagged, rotting wood that showers him as the door bursts open and collapses onto the floor.

“SAM!” Dean shouts and rushes over to him.

Dean’s hands brush against Sam’s cheeks and it’s like a a charge passes through them, connecting them. Goosebumps suddenly cover Sam’s arms and he feels relieved and happy, but almost like these feelings aren’t his own, he’s sure. It’s almost as if they slid into him the second Dean touched him. Finally Dean tugs the gag out of his mouth.

“Hey,” Sam says, voice a little shaky, soreness spreading through his throat.

There’s a wet gleam to Dean’s eye, like he could almost cry. Sam’s brother clears his throat and speaks steadily. “Hey yourself. I thought...” He doesn’t need to say what he thought, Sam knows.

Dean begins to cut away at Sam’s bonds with a knife. “Is it… dead?” Sam asks, voice quiet, chest tight.

“Yes. Bobby called in with some info and… hell, it was Huehueteotl. Mean son of a bitch, senior Aztec old god type.” Dean crouches in front of Sam, cutting through the final ropes tying Sam’s feet together. Sam rubs at his sore wrists.

“How’d y—” But even before Sam finishes his question, he smells again the tang of salt water.

“Salt water,” Dean replies to the half question, but he’s looking up at Sam, head quirked, brows furrowed. “Sam…”

“How’d you find me?” Sam asks, but Sam thinks he already knows the answer.

“I… I had a feeling.” Dean stands up and remains in front of Sam as he stands too.

Nodding, Sam looks behind him to the splintered door, making a point of not remarking how close they’re stood together right now. “A lot of that going around lately.”

“We need to talk.” Dean starts towards the hole where the back door use to be.

***

“So, you said we needed to talk,” Sam starts after they’ve been sat—staring at each other across the gap between their low motel beds—for ten minutes.

That causes Dean to look even more uncomfortable, which means Sam feels his anxiety as well. They know when this started. They knew who started it.

Tension clear on his face, Dean rubs a hand through his hair, not giving a damn about the product in it. “He said there’d be no side effects.”

“I don’t think he knew… though… do you think he’s been avoiding us since—”

“Like the plague. He’s been taking calls but he’s not been taking any of my hints to—”

Sam clenches and unclenches his fists. “I’ve felt angrier than usual. Like not just my _usual_ —”

Dean sighs and nods. “Hell... yeah, same.” And then Dean flicks his gaze to Sam’s eyes and there’s a plea there, and it says _“I’ve been feeling other things too and I don’t know what to do…” fuck, Dean just…_

Cheeks turning red, Sam returns Dean’s gaze and sees the heat there. Tracks the swallow that Dean takes, but his older brother doesn’t close the distance between the two of them. _And it’s now or fucking never…_

Sam slides onto the floor between the two beds and kneels before Dean, nestled between his open legs. Hands reaching nervously up towards Dean’s cheek, Sam tilts Dean’s face down towards his own and then leans in to gently press their lips together.

The tension that seizes Dean at first makes him rigid, but then Sam parts his lips and Dean follows, muscles relaxing. Their tongues nervously dance over each other and then Dean pushes for a little more. Sam lets him take it and moans into his brother’s mouth, which earns him Dean’s hands on his neck.

Below the physicality of the kiss is the feedback of what each other is sensing, experiencing, feeling. Dean’s nervous, but keen.

Sam breaks the kiss and looks into Dean’s green eyes. Their breaths are short and hot. Dean nervously swallows and Sam wants to kiss the pulse he can see thrumming away at the side of Dean’s neck, but he stays where he is. Small and unthreatening.

Around them, the occupants of the motel continue to come and go. Doors open and close. Cars park and start up. Voices shout.

Just as Sam’s knees begin to hurt, Dean’s cell begins to ring. Sam watches Dean as he answers it.

“Oh, hey Cas………… Yeah, we’re still staying there—”

The beating of wings and rush of air signals Castiel’s arrival. He’s just a foot from Dean and Sam, staring down at them, face muddled with emotions that look almost foreign on his features. Sam can sense his anger and confusion, but there’s more there and it’s almost too much to comprehend.

“C—Cas?” Sam asks, voice shakier than he intended.

Dean rockets up to his feet, almost knocking Sam over. “You said there wouldn’t be any side effects!”

Looking away from them, Cas shifts uncomfortably. “I did not believe there would be any.”

Pushing past Sam, Dean gets in Cas’s space and jabs a finger in the seraph’s chest. “I just… we just fucking kissed! I kissed my own brother, Cas!”

Getting to his feet, Sam tries not to feel hurt by the tone Dean’s using. Dean suddenly ducks his shoulders and turns to Sam. “I didn’t it mean it like… like that Sammy.”

Breathing deeply, Sam nods. Accepting the apology, because he doesn’t feel any regret coming from Dean, though there’s an edge of worry.

“I _know_ you kissed,” Cas states, tone not as steady as it could be. _And is that… jealousy?_

Dean looks to Sam and then looks to Cas. “Cas?”

“Clearly I was incorrect about there being no side effects. Of course it did not cause the… feelings and desires that we are experiencing, rather it has opened us to them...”

“To each other,” Sam says softly.

And Sam already knows that Dean’s struggling with a series of thoughts, feelings of guilt, longing and desire. He doesn’t need to read Dean’s face to get all this, because it washes over him with every passing second, singing out along the thread of connection that Castiel’s grace has strung out between them.

Sam looks to Cas and focuses on the thread between him and the seraph. It’s harder to comprehend the noise there and the unfamiliarity of being that comes with Cas being thousands of years old at his core. There’s a lot of noise, but some of it Sam can read. Like the jealousy of what Dean and Sam have, and longing to be a part of it. The awakening desire for more, because Cas has experienced what Dean and Sam just did.

“Right, right, because if we weren’t a bunch of freaks already we had to add this into the mix! That does it, I’m hitting a bar. _Alone_.” Dean pushes past Sam and Cas, stalking out of the door before anyone can summon the words necessary for a reply. _Because of course Dean isn’t taking to this like a fish to water._

***

Cas is gone. _Where?_ Sam thinks it’s a couple of states over, in a forest. He can smell the pine needles. Dean hasn’t come back from the bar yet, but Sam can feel the minor buzz that his brother is achieving by wasting their cash on booze that won’t do much.

Laid out on his bed, TV showing a history documentary that he lost interest in a long time ago, Sam doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. There’s the obvious hunting for the next case he could do or hitting the books to find a way to try and deal with that whole apocalypse problem. Instead, Sam thinks about that kiss with Dean earlier.

Wonders where things might have gone if Cas hadn’t called or if Dean and Cas hadn’t left.

Right hand wandering down his body, Sam shudders and then begins to palm himself through his sweats. But as he thickens beneath the soft grey fabric, it’s not enough, so Sam pulls himself out of his sweats and rubs a teasing thumb over his slit before starting to stroke. Wrist and hand moving in long, languid strokes, Sam doesn’t guard his thoughts.

He imagines him and Dean trading kisses over Castiel, everyone naked and on the same large bed. Then Dean goes for Cas’s mouth and Sam sinks down to the angel’s hard cock and takes Cas’s length into his mouth. But because he has no cock in his mouth really, Sam brings two of his left fingers up to his mouth and sucks them inside. Tongue working around his digits, Sam imagines that he’s blowing Cas while Dean makes out with him.

Pre-come dribbles out of his slit and he rubs it down his own length as the little fantasy plays out in his head. Somewhere underneath his own thoughts and senses, he feels Dean’s sudden distraction while sat at the bar; feels Castiel involuntarily shudder in expectation.

“I know you’re both listening,” Sam says out loud, hand stroking, fantasy playing in his mind’s eye. “Want to feel you both, so bad.

“Feel you on me. Over me. Inside me. Have you come for me.” Sam speeds up his hand and pants, release not far. “Wanna come for you. Please, let me come for you.”

Distantly, Sam hears his name groaned out by two voices at the same time and then he comes. Hot and hard, splattering onto his hand and shirt, breath stuttering and fast.

It’s half-an-hour after Sam’s cleaned himself up, another documentary is on, when Dean returns to their motel room. He doesn’t say anything at first just gives Sam a look as Sam glances up at Dean from the bed. Dean’s standing stiffly in the middle of the room, fists clenching and unclenching. There’s no real anger there just, worry and—

“How long?” Dean asks.

The question doesn’t need to be defined. “I realized there was something… on my seventeenth birthday. When you got me drunk I only just managed to… to not do anything. But when you died that first time in Broward County: that’s when I _knew_.”

“Fuck.” Dean runs a hand roughly through his hair. Disbelief and concern warring inside him.

“You?” Sam climbs out of his bed and pads over to Dean. “Your seventeenth too… but I didn’t know until you left for Stanford.” Dean lets out a long breath. Sam steps closer.

“And Cas?”

A laugh works its way out of Dean and he licks his lips before answering. “God, you want to know that too.”

“You know how I feel about him.”

Cheeks turning red, Dean seems to shift into Sam’s space at that. “That first time I saw him in that barn and realized he wasn’t a demon… you?”

“When I found out he rebelled for us… may have been crushing a little before then.” There’s no real distance between Dean and Sam now. Leaning in, Sam gently places a kiss to Dean’s jaw. His brother’s breath catches and then Dean’s reaching out for him, pulling them flush against each other.

“‘Crushing’? You sound like—”

“Say it,” Sam kisses Dean, tasting beer, “and I will stop.”

That earns Sam a glare, but Dean doesn’t finish what he was saying. Instead, Dean breaks the kiss and wonders out loud, “So where is Cas?”

But there’s no beat of wings. No cell ringing. Sam still smells pine needles. “A forest, somewhere.”

Dean doesn’t reply to that and instead occupies Sam’s mouth with his, greedily licking his way in. It’s hard to miss the nervousness that still bubbles away inside Dean, the fear that he’ll be rejected. Calloused hands move up to cradle Sam’s face as they kiss, to keep him close and Sam moans appreciatively in his throat. Sliding a hand down Dean’s body, Sam reaches round and caresses Dean’s ass through his jeans, pulling him closer. They’re both getting hard. And they’re both not quite believing that this is happening.

Coming up for air, Dean leans his forehead against Sam’s. “Do I… do we… _get_ to have this?”

“I want this.” Sam grinds into Dean to add to this point. “I want you.”

“And Cas?”

“And Cas.”

Stealing a quick kiss, Dean lets out a long breath and rubs his face against Sam’s, scruff on scruff. “We need to get him to—”

“Come here,” Sam finishes. “If we keep going, he’ll—”

“Probably show up.” Dean sighs. “Those pine needles can’t be that interesting. Wanna—”

“Fool around?” Sam finishes for Dean.

The answer comes in the form of Dean bruisingly pressing their lips together. _So much lost time_ , Sam thinks mournfully.

 _We can make up for it_ , Dean replies and pushes Sam back towards the bed furthest from the door. Reaching down, Sam unbuckles Dean’s belt, opens his flies and starts to pull down Dean’s jeans.

 _Too many clothes_ , Sam moans as Dean’s jeans get caught on his boots.

 _Fine, fine_. Dean pulls back and kicks off his boots before helping Sam to finish removing his jeans and boxers. Then Dean starts in on Sam’s sweats and t-shirt and soon enough they’re both naked and allowing each other to take in the view.

 _Sam, what happened to fooling around?_ Dean asks, crowding Sam towards the bed.

Tracing a finger down Dean’s chest, Sam reaches just above Dean’s aching cock, tantalizingly close. _I lied_ , Sam replies and seizes Dean’s cock in his hand. Sam pumps it while Dean starts plundering his mouth again.

 _Sam_ , Dean reaches a hand between them and touches Sam’s aching length. _I can’t believe—_

 _Believe_. Sam manoeuvres them so that his hand encases both of them and Dean sets the pace. Moaning into each other’s mouths, Sam distantly feels a pull from Cas, as his interest is drawn towards the two of them.

Somehow, Dean pulls the two of them down onto Sam’s bed, so that they’re laid out on their sides while Sam continues to pump the two of them with Dean’s help. Pre-come slicking the way, Sam’s not sure how much longer he can last as Dean’s senses feedback into his own. They can feel how close the other is and it just turns them on more as their hands slide up and down, the friction and speed just right.

Gasping for air, Sam looks up into Dean’s blown pupils. “Gonna… fuck, Dean!” And that’s all the warning Sam manages as he spurts hotly between them, covering his stomach and hand along with Dean’s.

Dean doesn’t even manage that much of a warning as he follows Sam, crying his name.

Blissed out and sated, Dean cleans them up and lets Sam pull him in as the little spoon.

It’s Dean that finally says out loud, voice cocky and assured, “You’re missing out, Cas.”

Sam’s unsure what the angel thinks of that, but senses Cas’s frustration while catching a glimpse of ruffled feathers on massive wings.

***

Another town. Another case.

Only there isn’t a case. The haunting they thought they were dealing with turned out to be some teenagers with way too much time of their hands.

They’re leaving in the morning. Despite alcohol no longer really doing anything for them, Dean and Sam are in a bar, drinking, talking, looking to hustle some pool. Playing it cool and not being all over each other. Every other moment, they feel a brush of want or need, Sam turns to Dean or Dean turns to Sam.

Finally walking over to the pool table, Dean and Sam allow their hands to brush together. The contact makes Sam shiver. Reaching the table, Dean starts his spiel to sucker in a trucker and Sam takes in the bar, checking they’re safe.

For the past half hour, Sam knows that Cas has been walking around a lakeshore in the near dark. Pebbles clear under the soles of his shoes. Satisfied that they’re safe, Sam reaches out to Cas along the thread of grace connecting them.

 _Cas, you busy?_ Sam leans against a wall to watch Dean play.

_You’re not—_

_Not injured_. Sam studies Dean’s rear as he bends over the table to take an awkward shot. Dean’s in the “play to show you’re kinda crap” part of the hustle. _We’re fine. You… seeing—_

 _This?_ Cas’s concentration comes to bear on Sam and Dean. Dean misses his shot and looks over at Sam as if to say “keep it down”.

_Come to us, Cas, you’ve been avoiding us…_

Cas has no reply for that, but Sam senses the longing that Cas feels.

_We won’t bite, Cas. Well, not much._

_Christ, Sammy. Will you at least tone it down?_ Dean takes another shot and misses on purpose. He throws a half-masked grin over his shoulder and waggles his hips.

The seraph has sat down on a large rock beside the stony shore. Sam can feel the roughness of the stone on Castiel’s palms. Smell the wet earthiness that surrounds Cas. Sam and Dean had found that there was a limit to how far apart they could be to send fully formed thoughts to each other, but with Cas there seemed to be no distance too great.

 _Please_ , Sam asks.

By whichever lake Cas is sat beside, the angel sighs and then smiles. _I will… think about it._

***

Just after an actual case winds up, Sam’s out getting dinner from a nearby diner when his breath stops in his chest and he has to lean against the counter. He gets a few strange looks as he tries to compose himself, but it’s kind of difficult when he’s seeing flashes of Dean opening himself up back in the motel room.

And not just flashes. The cool wetness of lube. Tight pressure as Dean works two fingers into himself. The distance between them is too great for Sam to send a single thought, but he knows Dean senses how he’s distracting Sam.

 _DEAN_ , rumbles Cas, like a bolt of lightning from a cloud laden sky.

Fumbling through paying for and picking up his order, Sam’s not entirely sure how he makes it from the diner to the Impala and then back to the motel. His ability to focus on more than one thing is really put to the test when he feels Dean start probing himself with a silicone buttplug. But Sam’s there in under ten minutes and steps into the room at the same time that Castiel chooses to make an appearance.

Dean’s laid out on his bed, panting, naked, sweat slicking his skin and hair mussed up and all over the place. There’s a second or two where Sam’s brain takes in the sight before him, Dean’s hard and leaking cock being the centerpiece. Sam licks his lips.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Dean jokes and ends on a moan, because Cas is already kneeling up on the bed in front of Dean, a hand experimentally brushing the end of the plug inside Dean.

There’s an intensity to the way Cas is studying Dean; all previous coyness vanished. Sam puts the food down and climbs out of his boots and clothes. He gets on the bed and aims for the prize he wants.

“Cas, take your clothes off,” Sam orders as the seraph touches Dean again and sends a shiver of pleasure through Sam’s brother.

“Yes…” Cas gets off the bed, causing Dean to moan, and strips quickly.

Taking Dean’s cock in hand, Sam squeezes it at its base. “Patience, we’ll get there.” Sam turns to Cas. “You took your time.”

Startling blue eyes are levelled at Sam and Cas’s annoyance with the rebuke is clear. “I was busy.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean shifts, gasping noiselessly. His pleasure from the amply sized plug grating against his prostate draws moans out of both Castiel and Sam.

Loosening his grip on Dean’s cock, Sam looks over to Dean, “I’m gonna try something, can you get up a sec?”

Dean gives Sam an “are you serious?” look but gets up from the bed and then Cas swoops in to kiss him. It sounds wet and Sam knows it feels good, the sensations ghosting along their shared grace and leaving him hard and yearning for actual contact.

Getting up on the bed, Sam puts his head down some distance from the pillows, legs bent a little. He offers Dean and Cas a flash of what he wants them all to do. Cas and Dean break apart, gasping for air and then Dean’s climbing up and over Sam, leaking hard-on leaving a trail of pre-come over Sam’s jaw as he settles into place over him. Carefully, Cas slots into position behind Dean.

Nostrils filled with each other’s musk, Sam greedily pulls Dean down into his mouth and begins to suck and lick. Tongue teasing and testing. Dean’s mouth finds Sam’s cock and starts to lap at it, while Castiel’s tongue hungrily begins to tease in alongside the plug inside Dean’s ass.

The exquisite sensations loop between them, driving them on and chasing them desperately towards finding release. Every inch of them is overstimulated by the feedback loop the grace is creating. Experiencing what each other is going through and trying to maintain some semblance of control so that they can keep going.

Shaking hips drive Dean’s dick deep into Sam’s mouth, the head hitting the back of Sam’s throat. Sam manages to keep his gag reflex under control (barely),cheeks hollowed. Dean’s mimicking him and Sam has to keep his hips under control as he hotly draws breath through his nostrils.

A slick, wet sound and a thud signals that Cas has removed the plug and Dean’s mouth goes crazy on Sam’s cock. A probing finger enters Dean’s hole alongside Castiel’s tongue and Dean starts whining around Sam.

 _Fuck, Cas_ , Dean begs, clearly in need of more.

The bed shifts as Cas changes position and then he’s pushing inside Dean’s open hole. Length filling the tight space and Cas fucks all three of them—it’s the only way to describe it, as the grace feeds Dean’s pleasure and the feeling of Cas inside Dean back to all of them.

Having the three of them balanced on the bed in the way they are and the precise synchronicity involved in giving head at the same time… Cas sets a slow pace to start. Not that that means anything for Dean, who is over-sensitized at this point. Each scrape of Castiel’s dick hitting that bundle of nerves inside Dean, drawing synchronized cries from all of them and driving coherent thought further away.

No one is going to last much longer. Sam can feel their collective release drawing near, but then there’s a cracking sound and a lamp crashing to the floor as two impossibly sized wings burst through into this reality. Cas cries again and feathers start to sweep and stroke over their writhing forms. Sam can’t see them much himself with Dean fencing him in, but he sees them through Dean’s eyes, catching a hint of wonder.

Sam’s orgasm hits him suddenly, causing a domino effect as he comes in Dean’s mouth as Dean comes in his and Cas cries out again, beating his wings, come filling Dean’s hole. Sam keeps saying inside his head, _ohmygodohmygodohmygod_ , and lets Dean’s cock slip out of his mouth. His jaw hardly hurts; he suspects this is due to the grace.

Wings still filling the room, Castiel pulls out of Dean and then begins arranging the brothers so that they’re on the same bed, heads on pillows. The seraph nestles down between them, wings folding over and keeping them warm.

Sam can’t stop touching the feathers or focusing on their softness when they’re on his skin. _They’re beautiful_ , Sam says and Castiel turns to nuzzle into his cheek. Drawing Sam into a kiss, Cas licks into Sam’s mouth and tastes Dean.

A well muscled arm wraps itself over Cas’s belly and fingers brush Sam’s side. “Next time, we’re taking it in turns,” Dean declares, voice heavy with bliss.

“If you insist,” Cas replies, wings pulling closer around them.

The two brothers fall asleep, cradled against the seraph.

***

The steel rebar pins Sam to the unfinished wall, blood already pooling around it and sliding down his chest and back, slicking his clothes. Hands beginning to slip and slide in the blood, he tries to pull himself free as his assailant—a shapeshifter currently in the form of a former (now dead) male property developer—heads towards the side of the construction site that Dean’s checking out.

 _He’s heading towards you!_ Sam warns along their connection.

 _You gonna be okay?_ Dean asks, clearly worried.

_I’ll be fine, just don’t let him get the jump on you._

Gritting his teeth as he pulls, Sam finally gets the bar free and he can feel the wound begin to heal over. Knocks, grazes, cuts, broken bones, strangulation and burns—the usual injuries from the job don’t really matter anymore, what with Castiel’s grace inside them.

Seeing a flash of Dean’s surroundings, Sam spots the shapeshifter stalking towards Dean as his brother readies his silver blade to fight in one hand and raises his handgun—loaded with silver rounds—with the other. Dean’s confidence is clear, but Sam still starts stumbling towards his location.

Vision his own once more, Sam hears Dean’s gun go off—one, two, three, four times—the sound reverberating through the construction site. Pain burning in his shoulder, Sam continues on towards his brother.

_Is it dead?_

_Yes_.

A couple more yards and Sam reaches Dean standing over the body of the shifter. Things had gotten handsy and some of its skin is slewn off.

“Son of a bitch ran at me. I dropped my knife, but—”

“It’s dead.”

 _Yeah_ , Dean smiles and then pulls Sam towards him by his shirt tails. Probing fingers find Sam’s healing wound and he winces. Half-heartedly, Sam tries to push Dean away, but Dean wraps an arm around Sam’s waist and holds on.

“Oh no, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Dean half scolds, concern bubbling over. “Geez, it really went right through you,” he says, now probing the healing wound on Sam’s back.

Sam winces. “Uh-huh, and that stings.”

Half a heartbeat and Dean’s lips are on Sam’s, possessive and pleased. He bites at Sam’s bottom lip and then pushes his way inside, tongue hitting Sam’s molars. They’re both quickly out of breath and aching for more.

“Stinging less now?” Dean asks, as he nips at Sam’s ear.

“Mmm-hmm. But I want a shower and—”

“I’ll ask Cas to stop by.” Dean winks at Sam.

***

When Cas appears, Sam’s still sat on the edge of his bed, towel around his shoulders as he tries to dry his hair, only dressed in boxers and one of Dean’s shirts. The shower running in the bathroom is the only sound as Cas stands in front of Sam and hungrily drinks him in.

“Cas,” Sam says a little weakly, because of the hungry look in Castiel’s eyes. “You gonna wait for Dean?”

The seraph shakes his head and steps into Sam’s space, hand reaching out and taking the towel away.

“All right.” Even if Sam might normally be described as “toppy”, few have met Cas’s gaze full on when the angel has a plan and you can feel the determination and want radiating from him. It’s clear to Sam already where this is all—where he is—going.

Pulling Sam up as if he weighs nothing, Cas mashes their mouths together and demands entrance. Opening up to Cas, Sam moans as Castiel’s tongue begins to dominate his mouth. Distantly, Sam feels Dean shiver in anticipation and then he realizes the shower has stopped.

Opening the bathroom door, Dean steps out, towel at his waist.

“Starting without me, Cas?” Dean asks cockily.

“I couldn’t just leave him alone,” Cas replies, breaking the kiss.

“He’s wearing too many layers and so are you,” Dean states, pulling his towel off and running a hand through his still damp hair.

There’s no request, just Cas rounding on Sam, and helping him out of his shirt and boxers. A naked Dean steps over to the two of them and starts helping Cas out of his clothes. They don’t need to think at each other what they want to ask for. It just logically flows through their connection, driving them forward.

Sam’s positioned in the middle of the bed once everyone is naked, kneeling, Dean by his head and Cas low down at his rear. Suddenly, the seraph’s mouth descends upon Sam’s hole and Dean upon his mouth.

And so the web of sensations begins. Castiel’s wicked tongue quickly presses past Sam’s tight ring of muscle as Dean leaves him gasping for air. All three of them are hard and leaking, but things can’t be rushed too much.

Reaching down between them, Sam tries to grasp both Dean’s and his cock, only to have his hand slapped away.

 _Cas wants to try something_ , Dean answers and flicks his tongue along Sam’s molars. He does bring himself closer to Sam though and lets them rub against each other.

 _Fiiiiiiine, but what happened to one at a time?_ Sam asks, moaning.

 _We decided not just yet_ , Cas answers and it’s then that the press of Castiel’s tongue is gone, leaving Sam whimpering into Dean’s mouth.

A cool press of something near indescribable breaches Sam’s first ring of muscle and he pulls away from Dean’s mouth. The smell of ozone pierces the air.

“What the hell is that?!” Sam shouts, confused imagery entering his mind. He has to twist and turn to suddenly see blue, glowing tendrils of light shifting from Castiel’s body, some in the air and some clearly heading towards Sam’s hole. “Is… is that…” _Grace?_

Dean pulls Sam’s mouth back towards his. “Yeah, and it's gonna feel freaking awesome.” Dean dives onto Sam’s mouth again and teases it open.

The tendril of grace pushes deeper into Sam and meets little resistance, despite only Castiel’s tongue having opened him before and the only lubrication down there evaporating salvia. Sam shudders and gasps into Dean’s mouth, practically keening the moment the tendril touches his prostate.

Unable to quite believe the intense and delicious pressure this is causing, Sam still ends up moving with the tendril as it begins to thrust in and out of him. A shiver passes through him when another tendril of grace wraps itself around Sam’s cock and then Dean’s moaning into his mouth as he feels a tendril grip Dean.

Cas shifts from behind Sam and starts to rearrange the three of them, getting Dean and Sam to lay down facing each other on the bed—tendrils still working—Cas sandwiched in the middle. It’s a lot to take in and Sam finds himself closing his eyes and focusing on the sensations flowing through his mind and body, and it’s still overwhelming, driving all thoughts away.

Cas trades kisses with both of them, switching from Dean to Sam, Sam to Dean. The seraph encourages the brothers to wrap their hands around his cock and pump him as he twists his head this way and that. A tendril begins to probe Dean, who starts to rut a little against Cas’s thigh.

Sam hasn’t opened his eyes in a while, it’s almost too much as Castiel’s grace works them over. But now he peeks his eyes open and finds himself surrounded by blue light, tendrils flailing everywhere and the gorgeous sight of Dean starting to lose himself. Sam speeds their hands up on Cas, because he’s not going to last much longer and neither is Dean.

The ethereal tendrils synchronize their movements against Dean and Sam’s prostates, alongside the ones stroking their cocks. Pre-come is smeared around their tips, the intense stimulation leaving them on the precipice of pain or pleasure.

 _I… know that… this is not… what I… originally… intended…_ Cas tries to communicate, _but I am glad… we are here now._

 _Just shut up and come!_ Dean demands as he and Sam finally orgasm, come shooting over themselves and Cas. The tendrils stay put until the flow finally stops and then pull away to caress their oversensitized bodies.

The seraph smashes his mouth into Dean’s and as he’s been told—the sensation of Sam and Dean’s hands on him feeding back to the brothers and leaving their cocks twinging as they desperately try to get hard again, but can’t quite—he comes. Cas covers his stomach and their hands, crying into Dean’s mouth.

Hot, sticky and satisfied, the tendrils pull back from this plane of existence. Sam realizes he’s shaking, he’s not sure why, and before he can say or think anything about it, Castiel’s wings are back and forming a comforting cocoon around the three of them. Tangling his legs with Cas’s and Dean’s; arm over Cas’s chest and fingers brushing his brother and feathers brushing his back—Sam allows himself to relax.

Letting out a soft sigh, Sam nuzzles his face into Castiel’s hair. “I love you guys,” he mutters.

He can almost see Dean’s shit eating grin and Castiel’s very human blush.

“Ditto,” Dean garbles out, clearly embarrassed by the sentimentality.

“And I the two of you,” Cas says confidently and shifts his wings a little so that the feathers can stroke them more.

The wound from the rebar is long forgotten, and while they’ll have to wash up soon, and maybe go face that apocalypse thing, Sam chooses to revel in the closeness he now has with Dean and Cas. Sam will never be truly alone again.

And he’s glad.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Mayalaen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayalaen/pseuds/Mayalaen) for helping me with my initial idea for this fic :)


End file.
